Wandering Souls by Angela van Liempt EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Angela van Liempt
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Detective Story
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Time doesn’t heal all wounds—at least not according to Drew Harlow.
Getting out of bed every day to face the world was struggle enough.
Healing? That was for other people. Normal people. All she needed was to
get through one more year of high school. Graduate. Move on.
Shuffling through the sand, she seated herself at the edge of a
waterlogged tree trunk. She came to this same spot at Jupiter Cove every
day. Sitting alone on the empty beach allowed her solace to think without
interruption. Without everyone asking her if she was okay. Here, she could
stop living on autopilot and breathe—really breathe—keeping time with the
steady pulse of the waves as they washed against the shore, dragging small
rocks and pebbles back into the deep.
The late October evening left her chilled and shivering. The wind rolled
up and over the rocky cliffs leaving her long hair a mess of tangles in its
wake. She zipped her sweater and wrapped her arms around her bent knees
for warmth.
Somehow, she’d made it through the summer without Shane. He’d been
gone nine months now. Nine months and she still had no answers. Shane
was gone. Dead. How could she move on when she knew he couldn’t be
gone?
Shane wouldn’t leave her. She knew it in her bones just as assuredly as
she knew her own name. If his car had crashed into the Coda River,
someone would have found him. But his body had never been found. He’d
disappeared with nothing left behind other than his car sinking through the
icy water.
Heartache gripped her every day. It was like an ice block that refused to
melt. Her eyes watered and she dabbed them dry before tears could fall.
A crisp wind sent another shiver across her skin. It was late, and she
was cold, but she dreaded going home. Gran would still be up, ready to ask
her all sorts of well-meaning questions offering up one platitude or another
that didn’t help her at all. She got it; Gran meant well, but there were
times…
Drew stood and wiped sand from her jeans before turning for the
weathered, wooden steps to the top of the cliffs. She plucked her shoes from
the sand and held them as she put one foot in front of the other up the
narrow, crooked stairway. No traffic busied the coastal road tonight. It
rarely did on Sunday nights. Not in Atlas Cliffs.
But there were other things that moved in the dark.
She scurried across the road to her house. Moths dived toward the
streetlamps—like little suicide bombers without a cause. Crickets chirped,
but not as fast as they had just weeks ago. Maybe they knew their days of
singing were coming to an end.
As she neared the porch steps, she heard a faint voice, barely a whisper,
uneven and hoarse. Someone, or rather something lurked in those shadows.
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